The Dried Falls
It was a bright morning during a typical Grade Five day when we were instructed to clean the areas designated for Mrs. Castillo’s class in the left wing of the intermediate building. The girls grabbed brooms and dustpans, sweeping up dried leaves and forming piles of trash. Meanwhile, the boys, being boys, were running around and needed reminders to start their tasks. I observed Ped Victoriano igniting a pile of leaves, adding fresh grass to create billowing smoke above. As I watched the elegant white vapor rise and hang in the still air, despite the absence of wind, I was captivated. Although this scene was a common occurrence in our own yards, I couldn’t resist the urge to grab a piece of paper, ignite it, and contribute to the smoky molehill.
Nakita ako ni Ped nga ga-suga it papel, abo nag-bulig man tana, ging kumos nana it pahaba kag nag sindi idto sa kalayo nga ging sugaan nakon, owa pa ako katindog bitbit nana ang papel nga ga-dabdab kag maayan gani imaw itdo sa isyang surug-anan, hay sa ano tana nga pagkatabo nataktak tana ang isyang parte it anang suga sa akong tu-o nga butkon, “aruy…” imaw gin ang akong singgit, napaso takon it papel, dali-dali man nana it ging buol ang kalayo, pero tu tana nag-pal-ak lagi akong panit, gumuwa ang puti. Daw matangis ko kato pero ging pug-ngan ko lang, karahuya bay, Grade V ron takon no. Natapos ang among panglimpiyo ngato nga may bugkos nga panyo ang akong butkon.
Upon returning to our classroom, I pleaded with Ped not to inform Manong Awe (my elder brother) about our escapade, fearing the repercussions from Papa. The thought of receiving two stinging slaps on the buttocks if my father found out was daunting. Despite enduring the pain of the burns, remnants of red stripes lingered on my behind. As weeks turned into months, the wounds eventually healed. To this day, I bear the scar from that fateful morning chore, serving as a reminder of my joyous childhood days as I reminisce down memory lane.